


Take A Chance on Me, Sir

by shaenie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Altered States, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has been circling Phil his entire career. He knows this is a little pathetic; it’s particularly pathetic because Clint knows <i>Phil</i> knows what he wants. Clint has made it as clear as he can make it without outright saying it, and he thinks he’s only never asked outright because he’s afraid of the very final “No” that Phil will probably give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Chance on Me, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> For the Altered States Square on my Kink Bingo card (amnesty), and with my deepest appreciation to sabinelagrande, for betaing not one, but _two_ Kink Bingo stories for me.

Clint has been circling Phil his entire career. He knows this is a little pathetic; it’s particularly pathetic because Clint knows _Phil_ knows what he wants. Clint has made it as clear as he can make it without outright saying it, and he thinks he’s only never asked outright because he’s afraid of the very final “No” that Phil will probably give him.

But tonight is bad. He’d spent the last two weeks in Beijing, and he’s got two bullet grazes and a shallow knife wound, along with assorted bumps, abrasions, and bruises, to prove how bad it really was. It’s pouring rain, and he’s standing in the street outside Phil’s apartment building, half-freezing and still unwilling to go. He’s come to Phil before, after hard missions. Not for what he really wants, but for what he can get, which is a sense of familiar comfort, a few hours he doesn’t have to spend alone. Phil always lets him in, and never seems put out.

Clint doesn’t do it often. He doesn’t want to push his luck.

The door to Phil’s apartment building opens, outlining Phil’s familiar figure. 

“Come in out of the rain, Barton,” Phil says, and Clint feels his shoulders both droop and tighten. Phil usually calls him Clint these days. He muscles down his disappointment. He did get invited inside, after all.

He shuffles into the building, dripping all over the carpet, and Phil herds him gently down the hall and into his apartment.

“Let me get you something dry to wear,” is all Phil says, and disappears into the bedroom Clint has never seen. He comes out with a towel and sweats and a t-shirt, and Clint dries off as well as he can and slips into the bathroom to change. Phil’s sweats are too long in the leg and his t-shirt is too tight, but Clint can’t care. He can smell Phil all over them, and it’s a comfort.

When he comes out, Phil is pouring water into a pair of mugs, and then offering one of them to Clint. It’s hot cocoa. Clint kind of wants to laugh, but he’s still not really to the point where he can after the last mission. By tomorrow he’ll be able to crack jokes and pretend he didn’t almost die, but not tonight. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to pretend to Phil, and guilty that that’s not all he wants from him.

They settle on the couch. Phil curls one leg up beneath him, turned toward Clint, and says, “Tell me about it.”

And Clint does, from the moment it had started to go wrong right up to the point where Clint had managed to salvage the intel and call for an evac.

Phil is frowning. “Let me see where you’re hurt,” he orders.

Clint pulls the shirt most of the way off to show the graze on his shoulder blade and the knife wound across his ribs. And the bruises. Don’t forget the bruises. He hesitates, but then tugs at the sweatpants, showing Phil the other graze low on his hip. He’d have to strip naked to show him everything, so he lets it go at that.

“Something wrong there,” Phil says. “Bad intel or unexpectedly good counterintelligence. Any sense that the breakdown was with us?”

Clint sighs and shakes his head. “They knew exactly where I was going to be, and they knew I didn’t have backup.” He shakes his head again, but then nods slowly. “I would bet on it being someone who knows us pretty well.” A mole, he means. A spy. A double agent. 

Phil’s frown deepens. “The safe house was hot?” he asks.

“Like an oven,” Clint agrees. “I had to hoof it to the closest potential evac zone.”

“You look like hell,” Phil says, almost thoughtfully.

“Thanks, sir,” Clint says. “You’re such a ray of sunshine.”

Phil snorts. “You’ll feel better once I get you home,” he says.

“I’d feel better if you let me stay,” Clint says without meaning to, but without regretting it, either. He glances up at Phil, worried about what he’ll see, but not willing to do the cowardly thing and just not look. But Phil is looking at him thoughtfully again.

“I doubt it,” he finally says dryly.

“Why?” Clint can’t help but ask. “I know you know…” he trails off with a gesture. “And I can see how you look at me,” he says, lower. “I wish you’d just… take a chance on me, sir.”

Phil’s expression has gone carefully neutral.

Clint sighs. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, wincing a little as he gets to his feet. 

“Clint,” Phil says seriously, and Clint turns to look at him. “You don’t have any idea of what I like.”

“As long as it involves me, it doesn’t matter,” Clint says, meaning every word. “I don’t care. You can have whatever you want.”

“Are you still going to feel that way in the morning?” Phil asks, looking, for the first time, like _he’s_ a little worried.

“I’ve felt like that forever,” Clint says. “I doubt it’ll be any different in the morning.”

Phil stares at him for a few long seconds. “Are you too hurt for this?” he asks finally.

“Since I don’t know exactly what you have in mind, I can’t really tell you, but I sincerely doubt it. If you’re offering, I’ll deal with the pain.”

“Nothing that should really hurt you.” Phil pauses. “Not this time, anyway.”

Clint lifts both brows. “You’re not scaring me away. I like it rough.”

Phil looks at him watchfully for several long seconds, as though trying to decide the truth of that statement. Then he stands up and walks into the kitchen, reaching above the stove into the cupboard and pulling down a cut crystal decanter about the size of Phil’s forearm. He folds his fingers around a tiny glass as well, something about half the size of a shot glass, and puts them both on the counter.

He works the top free of the decanter and carefully fills the glass about three-quarters full. Then he caps the decanter and puts it back. He picks up the glass and offers it to Clint.

Clint takes it. “What is it?” he asks.

“An alien controlled substance,” Phil says.

Clint grins a little. “Are you roofieing me, sir?”

Phil doesn’t smile. “It lowers inhibitions and makes you pliable. So. Yes.”

Clint’s brows rise. “You know I don’t need this to want to have sex with you, right?” he asks.

“I know, or I wouldn’t offer it to you; I don’t do lack of consent,” Phil says, lips barely curving. “It also increases your sensitivity to touch and taste, and reduces your refractory period significantly.”

Clint arches a brow. “Cheers, then,” he says, and tips the cup to his lips and swallows down the contents. It tastes a little bit like syrupy apple cider. “Where did you get it?”

“Thor,” Phil says. “Come into the bedroom. I’ve been told it can hit you pretty quickly.”

“So you’ve never used it?” Clint asks, hating himself a little for asking, but not quite enough not to ask.

“No, Clint,” Phil says gently. “Come on.”

Clint follows Phil into the bedroom without objection. His first thought is that Phil’s bed seems too large for the room, and it’s not a small room. “Your bed looks like it could sleep five,” he says. He only realizes after he’s said it that he might already be feeling the lack of inhibitions Phil had mentioned.

Phil smiles faintly, but then he tugs his t-shirt off over his head, and Clint is entirely distracted by the lean length of his torso, the curve of his biceps, and the cuts of muscle visible under the skin.

Clint makes a small sound of pleasure; it trips right out of his mouth without his permission. 

Phil, still smiling a little, strips off his flannel sleeping pants, and is not wearing underwear beneath them. His cock is long and half-hard, touching his left thigh, which is corded with muscle, as is his right thigh.

He’s at least ten times as gorgeous as Clint had imagined.

“Your turn,” Phil says, voice amused, and Clint jerks off his t-shirt and shoves underwear and sweats down his legs and kicks the whole tangle of it away.

“Hmm,” Phil says. “You definitely look better when you’re not unconscious in medical while they cut off your clothes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, sir,” Clint says, smirking.

“You know how you look,” Phil says. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“Since you’ve been blowing me off for years, it might be nice,” Clint ripostes.

Phil looks a little surprised, and then he shakes his head a little. “You never really asked,” he says. “You hinted, but you never said.”

“Unprofessional,” Clint muttered.

“I’m your handler. I have constant power over you, what missions you go on, what team is assigned to protect you, how long to leave you out. I’m in a position of authority over you; I couldn’t do anything unless you asked. I told you, I don’t do lack of consent. And it’s still against regulations.”

Clint feels a little of the hurt unfolding in his chest. He also feels his knees suddenly go weak.

Phil is right beside him, then, helping Clint over to the bed and seating him on the edge of it. Clint is conscious of it, but he’s more conscious of the way his hands are moving low across Phil’s belly, the skin there silky against his palms. He doesn’t remember deciding to touch, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Phil straightens and moves in a little closer, and Clint strokes down his hips and thighs and marvels at how fucking good Phil smells.

“Smell,” he says.

“Excuse me?” Phil says, amused.

“Sensitivity to smell,” Clint elaborates. “Unless you always smell so fucking good.” His hands make their way back up Phil’s hips to his ribs and chest, pausing to flick at the peaks of Phil’s nipples. Phil takes a sharp breath, and Clint can feel his lips smiling. “Why this?” he asks, pausing to look up at Phil, who is watching Clint intensely.

“Because I like my partners a little bit out of control,” Phil says without any kind of embarrassment or apology. “A little drunk or a little high. Enough so that I can handle them however I want to.”

“Deviant,” Clint says, grinning. He scoops Phil’s cock up into his hand; it’s almost completely hard now, and it’s just as gorgeous as the rest of Phil, flushed red and wide as well as long, now that it’s filled out.

“Suck it,” Phil says, voice low, and it doesn’t occur to Clint to do anything else. He opens his mouth and slides it over the head, and the taste of Phil’s cock is overwhelming. Clint’s mouth waters, immediately full of saliva, and he groans a little as he presses down, Phil’s length slipping like smooth silk along his tongue; Phil cups the back of Clint’s head and eases him forward a little faster. Clint lets Phil’s hand push him where Phil wants him to go, and now he can taste the sharp flavor of Phil’s precome as well, little explosions in his mouth that go straight to his cock. Phil keeps pushing, and Clint shifts himself on the bed for a better angle, hands raised to rest on Phil’s thighs, and he can deep throat, has done it before, but it’s never been easy like this, like his whole body just leans into it and it happens like magic.

“Clint,” Phil moans gruffly, and Clint shudders and draws back enough to push forward again, his mouth still watering, his chin slick with spit. “Yeah, like that,” Phil murmurs. “Take it all.”

Clint’s cock jerks needily, and his skin feels tight and constricting, like if he could just break free of it, he could feel so much more. Phil’s hand on the back of his head stops him from pulling off again -- Clint makes a disappointed little sound -- and then Phil’s hips rock gently into motion, pressing the head of his cock against the back of Clint’s throat and then further back. “Just like that, Clint,” Phil tells him. “Take it just like that for me,” and Clint stays still and lets Phil fuck his cock into Clint’s throat, his fingertips digging into the muscles of Phil’s thighs, his whole body shuddering with want. “Every inch,” Phil says, and Clint tries to groan, but hardly any sound escapes at all. “Good, Clint,” Phil says, and Clint looks up Phil’s body to see Phil watching his cock disappear between Clint’s lips, his gaze intent. Phil’s hips jerk harder now, and Clint’s throat feels a little raw, but he loves everything about it, from the choking sounds he can hear himself making to the way Phil’s voice sounds, rough and demanding. He feels like his ears are ringing a little, and his balls are tight.

Phil rests his free hand on Clint’s back and drags it along Clint’s skin hard enough to make Clint want to arch up into the touch.

“Suck my cock,” Phil orders, a harsh whisper. “You’re a lot less of a pain in the ass with my cock in your throat.” 

Clint shivers and sucks as much as he can with Phil’s cock shoved as far back as it is, uses his tongue, wants to know the flavor Phil when he comes, but then Phil is pulling out and Clint grasps at his thighs, leaning forward to chase it. Phil’s hands catch Clint’s shoulders and push him back. Clint looks up at him, feeling betrayed, but Phil is smiling faintly. 

“I’m not ready to come yet. I want to fuck you first,” Phil says. “But if you can be good, you can jerk off with my cock in your mouth.”

“Please,” Clint says breathlessly. “Please, Phil.”

“Come on then,” Phil says. “Nice and easy on my cock, but you can jerk off however you want.”

Clint opens for Phil, who slides gently back into Clint’s mouth, where Phil’s cock obviously belongs. 

“Let me see you do it,” Phil says.

Phil’s voice is still rough, but he’s breathless now. Clint wraps a hand around his cock and he doesn’t mean it to be fast, but as soon as his hand is there, it’s like his body realizes how much he needs it, and he stays careful with Phil’s cock, mouth gentle, but he can’t do the same with his own cock. His hand is hot and dry and pleasure spills out from his grip to make the rest of his body tingle and shiver. He moans, and Phil says, “Yeah, you need it. Show me, Clint,” and it drives Clint’s hand on faster. Phil rocks gently into his open mouth and Clint moans around his shaft, feeling a hot, spiral of need tightening in his lower back and balls. “When you come, I want you to go all the way back down, so I can feel it when you scream,” Phil says, and Clint shoves his mouth up further on Phil’s cock at once because just hearing Phil say it is enough to make it happen, and he’s spurting over his fist and shouting, choking on Phil’s cock, and Phil’s hand is on the back of Clint’s head again, holding him steady while Phil gasps out a couple of harsh breaths and says, “That’s it, that was perfect, Clint.” 

When he moves his hand and pulls out steadily, Clint whines a little, but Phil’s hands are abruptly on him, his palms smoothing up Clint’s chest to press him back onto the bed, Clint feels them like trails of fire across his skin, and he’s shuddering and staring up at Phil, and he knows he isn’t thinking right, but he doesn’t care. Phil dips down and kisses him, a hot, messy tangle of tongues, Phil’s teeth sliding along Clint’s lower lip while Phil’s hands wander across his body, Clint arching into them helplessly. His cock bounces against his belly, hard again, or still, Clint isn’t sure, and he can feel Phil’s cock pressed against his hip, the hard, hot length of it like a brand against Clint’s skin. Phil’s hands cup his jaw and Clint groans into his mouth, desperate for more contact.

“Tell me what you want, Clint,” Phil murmurs against Clint’s lips. “What’s making you shake like that?”

“I need you to fuck me,” Clint says hoarsely. “I need your cock inside me, to open me up and fuck me _hard_.”

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Phil says, pressing his cock harder against Clint’s hip. “I could play with you like this all night, and you’d let me, Clint. You wouldn’t be able to help it.” Phil runs his hands down Clint’s ribs and Clint arches into them and knows Phil is right and hopes that Phil won’t even though he knows at the same time that if Phil does, it will still be good, everything is so good.

“I’d let you anyway,” Clint says, a little too muddled to understand exactly what he means, but Phil’s face goes a little soft.

“Let’s see if you still feel that way in the morning,” Phil murmurs, and tucks a hand under Clint’s hip. “Over on your belly,” he instructs, and Clint goes right over, shaking at the idea of what Phil will do. “The thing about alien controlled substances is that they render other substances unnecessary,” Phil says.

Clint has no idea what he means until Phil swings a leg over him. “Up just a little,” he says. “Give me a good angle.”

Clint gets his elbows and one knee under him, and Phil’s hands smooth down his back, at once soothing and burning. Phil kisses the side of his neck, a long, slow press of lips with a hint of tongue, and then he bites Clint there, on the same spot, and Clint cries out, pushing up into Phil’s mouth, half-insane with the idea that he’ll be wearing Phil’s mark tomorrow.

“You taste good,” Phil says, when he’s released the skin of Clint’s throat, and then the tip of his cock bumps up against Clint’s ass. Phil shifts down and arches his hips, and Clint can feel his cock bumping against Clint’s asshole. He has a confused thought that they missed something, but it evaporates with the press of Phil’s cock into his body, a long, hot glide in one single stroke. Clint gasps out a little cry and Phil kisses the bite mark on his neck again. “You don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs, and then he’s rocking into Clint, fast, and Clint is rocking back into each stroke, choking out eager, helpless sounds. “God, Clint, you feel…” Phil says, and pulls all the way back and out, making Clint groan out a desperate objection. “You want it hard?” Phil murmurs into his ear.

“Yes,” Clint gasps out, shuddering all over, his skin tight and hungry, his ass empty and needy.

“How hard, Clint? How hard can you take it?”

“As hard as you can, sir,” Clint almost begs, and then Phil slams into him again, so hard this time, so good, the burn almost unbearable. Clint rocks back, but Phil pins down his shoulders this time, shifting to straddle Clint’s ass and then just shoving his cock in, long, pistoning strokes that make Clint whine and then moan and then gasp in harsh little puffs of breath. He doesn’t even know he’s going to come until it happens; when he does, Phil pauses, burying every inch of his cock in Clint’s ass, and groans his approval into Clint’s ear, “So tight, come on my cock, the way you feel when you’re shuddering and clenched around me, Clint, so good.”

Clint is desperately happy to have made Phil happy, and is only happier when Phil pulls out again and then pushes back, not quite as hard this time, but he’s changed the angle and his cock is scraping across Clint’s prostate, and Clint is crying out hoarsely with every stroke, no longer trying to push back, just taking it, not doing anything, like Phil said, and Phil is groaning now, low and wholly erotic, a rumble from somewhere deep in his chest. He bites Clint again, this time the back of his shoulder, his teeth sharp and present and welcome, and he says, “I’m going to come inside you, Clint, the first time, tonight, but you’re going to be ready for more, and next time I’ll come in your mouth,” and then his voice wrenches into a harsh cry and Clint can feel his thighs shaking and his cock jumping inside him, and Clint can’t stop himself from crying out as well, clenching down around Phil’s cock as hard as he can while Phil twists his hips and milks his come into Clint’s ass.

Phil stays where he is for long moment, panting while he peppers kisses along the back of Clint’s neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he tells Clint, voice as serious as Clint has ever heard it. “I hope you’re in this for the duration; I can’t imagine letting you go.”

“As long as you want me, sir,” Clint chokes out, feeling it torn from his chest and dragged up his throat and into his mouth to spill out in a helpless confession. 

Phil draws out of Clint, pulling back, and flips Clint over onto his back again. His gaze roves over the front of Clint’s body, his gaze glittering, and he says, “I’ve wanted you since the beginning. But I don’t do that. You can never tell how long you’re going to keep a specialist, and I just don’t do that to myself. I was clear on the fact that you wanted to sleep with me, but you never asked, and you weren’t shy about seeking out other partners. I thought it could be just who you were. Open and willing with lots of people. And I don’t do that either, Clint. I don’t share.”

“I haven’t had sex in two years,” Clint says. “Not since the Agent in Chechnya.” Clint’s cock is hard against his belly again, and he tries to ignore it, but he can’t ignore Phil’s hands stroking across his thighs. “I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. No more trying to find a substitute for you.”

Phil dips down and slips his tongue into Clint’s belly button, which makes Clint choke out a little laugh and arch into it at the same time. “Stay right here, Clint. Don’t move.”

Phil slips out of the bed and then out of the room, and Clint lays right where he is, not satisfied -- whatever Phil had given him is apparently long-lasting -- but content enough to wait.

Phil comes back with a warm, wet washcloth and cleans the come off of Clint’s belly and cock. He brings a bottle of water in with him, and coaxes Clint into a sitting position long enough to drink about half of it. Then he shoves Clint back down on his back hard, and swings a leg over his thighs.

And then Phil’s mouth is everywhere. Biting at his hipbone and grazing his ribs and tugging at one nipple and biting down hard on the other. Clint can’t stay still, he arches up against Phils mouth like he had Phil’s hands, and Phil lowers himself down and spreads Clint’s thighs and bites at the insides until the rings of Phil’s teeth are visible, overlapping on Clint’s skin. Clint whines the whole time, unable to stop it, until Phil’s mouth is abruptly slipping down’s Clint’s cock, and then Clint shouts out in surprise and desperate pleasure. Phil’s mouth is tight and hot, and he sucks cock like he trains in the gym, hard and fast and thorough, methodical and ruthless, and Clint comes after only a few minutes, shouting and bowing up on the bed as he spurts down Phil’s throat, and then lying dazed and amazed after. Phil crawls up his body and pries Clint’s mouth open, kissing again, but this time harder, his mouth a demand that Clint gives into heedlessly.

Phil cups his face in his hands and devours Clint’s little cries of needy pleasure, and then kisses Clint’s eyebrow and one cheekbone and an ear. When he pulls back, Phil’s eyes are a little glazed.

“I said I’d come in your mouth the next time,” he says. “And I’m close to ready. But I thought I’d see if that’s what you want.”

“I thought you wanted to… to handle me however you want,” Clint says, his mouth already watering at the idea of getting to suck Phil off.

“I do. But I don’t want it so much that I don’t want to give you what you need,” Phil says gently.

“I would love to suck you off,” Clint says. “You smell so fucking good, Phil, your cock is perfect in my mouth. I want to taste you.”

“Clint,” Phil murmurs, and then kisses him again. “Up on your knees.”

Clint scrambles up onto his knees, and Phil wraps a hand around the back of his head, but Clint barely waits for him to tug Clint onto his cock this time. He groans when he tastes Phil, a little soapy but otherwise all musk and sweat and the way that he smells.

“Clint, God, Clint,” Phil growls, and shoves both hands behind Clint’s head and controls everything, speed and depth and whether or not Clint chokes on it, presses down so that Clint takes it all and holds him there, hips working, shoving the head of his cock into Clint’s throat until Clint feels like he might pass out from lack of oxygen, and he doesn’t care at all, doesn’t even think about it until he can abruptly breathe again, and doesn’t try to stop it when Phil does it again, holds Clint’s head steady and fucks up into his throat until it feels raw, and then Phil says, “Do you want to taste it?” without letting go of Clint’s head, so Clint just nods frantically. Phil leans forward further, long, easy strokes into Clint’s mouth now, and Clint uses his tongue as he sucks hard, and just a hint of teeth, that makes Phil shudder out something that might have been profanity, and then he shouts and comes, hips arched, and Phil’s come spills salty and bitter across Clint’s tongue so that he shudders, too.

Eventually they are lying side by side on the bed, facing each other. Clint’s cock is still hard, but it doesn’t feel pressing. He can feel the aches of all the places that Phil bit him far more than he can feel the injuries from Beijing. Phil is watching him with quiet… something on his face. Phil is a hard read anyway, and this doesn’t look like anything familiar. Not quite pleasure. A little like happiness, except there’s something around his eyes that looks worried. 

“Can I stay here, tonight?” Clint asks.

Phil’s lips quirk. “You kind of have to, what with the alien controlled substance and all.”

Clint smiles a little. “But do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Phil says seriously. “I want you to stay.”

They’re both quiet for several minutes. Then Phil says, “You’re still hard.”

Clint chuckles. “Yeah, I get the feeling I’m going to be for a while.”

Phil is studying his face intently. “So if I leave you like this, hard for me, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Just you saying it like that is enough to make me want to do it for you,” Clint says.

“But you know it’s Frigga’s Honey,” Phil says. “You feel like that because I drugged you.”

“It’s not what you think,” Clint says. “It’s not like being drunk or being stoned. It’s still me. It’s just _more_. I still know what’s going on. I still meant everything I said. And the persistent erection is just a bonus. If I come again, that’s great. But if you want to leave me like this because you want it, that’s hot for me, too, Phil.”

Phil’s gaze is cautious. “You know we won’t really know until morning. That’s how it works. It wears off at dawn.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m going to be here in the morning so I can put your mind at ease,” Clint says easily, and drags himself closer to Phil. After a few seconds, Phil drapes an arm over Clint’s chest.

“You’re really not worried about this,” Phil says, soft and faintly amazed.

“It was the best night of my life,” Clint says truthfully. “And I already knew I’d do almost anything to be with you.”


End file.
